


Too Darn Hot

by LittleMissO



Category: Holby City
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 08:31:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMissO/pseuds/LittleMissO





	Too Darn Hot

It was hot. Not just warm, but hot. Not just hot, but outrageously hot. It had been three days and two nights of record breaking temperatures. Serena was wilting, but Bernie was taking it in her stride – much to Serena’s chagrin. The last couple of days on the ward had been like wading through a tropical jungle – all hot temperatures and heavy, loaded, steamy air. The heat had soared, pulses had risen and temperatures had frayed – and that was just the staff. Serena didn’t dare to think about how horrid and thoroughly unbearable it must be for the patients dealing with the effects of illness and injury on top of the heat.

It had been, as far as Serena was concerned, nothing short of miraculous that not only had she been rostered off as the plume of African heat reached his zenith, but so had Bernie. A day off together was a rare treat indeed and Serena had been determined to make the most of it. The heat had put paid to her more adventurous plans though. With something less than good grace she had accepted that the furthest they were going to get today was the back garden.

Bernie had set up the most comfortable sun lounger under the limited shade of the large apple tree in their garden. Serena was reclining on it in an attempt to make the best of the scarce breeze that there was. Having decided that clothes were going to be less than helpful in her quest to keep as cool as possible, Serena concluded that the only way to go was a swimsuit. She’d pulled out an old favourite - jet black with a plunging neckline that bordered on the indecent, held up more by luck and prayers than it’s too narrow for the task straps. A splash of colour came from the pink, purple and blue striped sarong tied round her hips. Her face was shaded from the worst excesses of the sun by the wide brim of her floppy straw hat, which casts a shadow over face and most of her chest. The look was completed with a pair of large, darkly tinted, sunglasses with a leopard print frame. 

Bernie emerged from the kitchen carrying two large glasses of Pimms. Serena, much to Bernie’s surprise, had declared it it too hot for Shiraz. Pimms had been deemed the only even semi acceptable alternative. 

Bernie, suffering less from the heat, was in a vibrant coral bikini. It wasn’t one of the new fashionable styles which looked more like dental floss. Bernie’s two piece was a far more sensible design. The bottoms contained more material than a handkerchief and covered most, if not all, of her trim backside, Her caesarian scar was more than hidden, and there was even enough material to cover her hips. Her top was more bustier than bra, carefully constructed to provide support – no flimsy strings or under boob in sight. It was simple and plain and Bernie looked amazing in it. Over the top of the bikini she had thrown a long, loose and flowing linen shirt. Crisp and white with a delicate embroidered pattern, the three large buttons in the centre were done up and holding it together – though not tightly enough to hide the curves and dips of Bernie’s body. 

Having already spent a pleasant hour laying in the sun on the lounger she had put next to Serena’s earlier she was ready for a change of pace. There was only so long that the latest edition of the BMJ could hold her attention. Handing Serena a full glass Bernie says  
“You’re not the only one who looks parched. The roses do too, and the geraniums look more like they need a drink than you do.”

From over the rim of her sunglasses one of Serena’s eyebrows emerges. 

“If you think they need watering then be my guest. Just don’t expect me to move. The only activity I plan on engaging in is lifting my glass to my lips. It’s too hot for anything else.”

“It’s not really that hot. When I was in...” Bernie stops as Serena moves her sunglasses halfway down her nose and fixes Bernie with what she can only describe as a death stare. 

“If that sentence was going to continue with the word ‘Afghanistan’ I suggest you think very carefully about completing it because I will not be responsible for my actions. We are not in the Middle East and it is far, far too hot.”

Bernie raises her hands in a mock gesture of surrender.   
“OK, OK, I’ve got the message.” She blows Serena a kiss before heading off in the direction of the garden hose. Serena lets out a little annoyed ‘humph’, and replaces her sunglasses in their usual position. A long refreshing drink from her condensation covered glass of Pimms helps to restore her equilibrium. If she can’t cool down she decides that she might as well attempt to distract herself. She scrabbles for the her phone and headphones in the patch of shade under the lounger where she had left them earlier. 

Headphones securely fixed in her ears she scrolls through the music options on her phone. Something easy and absorbing she thinks, and scrolls past the Mama Mia soundtrack. Perfect she concludes. Just what she needs to take her mind off the heat, or at least mentally transfer herself to a Mediterranean Island. She settles herself back on the lounger as the first notes of Mama Mia float into her ears.

For a while peace reigns in the garden. Serena is finally relaxing and Bernie is finding watching the flower beds drink up the water rather therapeutic and the ideal respite from a busy week on the ward. She can’t be sure, but she’s pretty certain, that behind her dark shades Serena is darting the occasional appreciative glance at her bikini clad body. Perhaps, she thinks, the weather isn’t the only thing getting hot around here.

It doesn’t take Bernie long to water the boarders thoroughly. She’s worked her way round most of the garden to the flower bed by the apple tree when the peace is broken by a shriek from Serena. Several things happen at once.

The bee that had landed on Serena’s thigh rapidly takes flight and heads, buzzing as she goes, as far away from the frightening noise as she can.

Serena sits bolt upright in the lounger in an instinctive attempt to ascertain what it was that had touched and tickled her thigh. As she does so the earphones fall out of her ears and the gentle sounds of “there was something in the air that night” from Fernando can just be made out coming from them if you listen hard enough. The Pimms, in the glass that Serena had been holding in her hand as she sat abruptly up, is swaying backwards and forwards, but not a single drop dared to spill over the rim.

Bernie, who had been happily watering the flowers at the back of the bed spun round to see what was causing Serena to squeal. That wouldn’t have been a problem if it hadn’t been for the fact that Bernie had put her thumb over the end of the hosepipe in order to give the jet of water enough power to reach over the front row of flowers and rain gently down on the larger plants at the back of the bed. Serena was significantly closer to Bernie than the flowerbed, so when Bernie spun round the now powerful jet of water hit Serena full in her magnificent chest.

The realisation of what’s happening hits Serena at the same time as the stream of icy cold water does. Serena shrieks again. Bernie looks horrified and immediately drops the hose. Serena flaps her hands uselessly over her wet chest.

“It was a bee Bernie. Just a bee.” Serena notes in a tone full of annoyance, her face a picture of absolute dismayed shock 

“Serena, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to...” she gestures at Serena’s drenched and dripping form. The look of abject horror on her face morphs into an attempt to stifle the laughter bubbling up in her throat. It’s the drops of water falling from the brim of Serena’s floppy hat that finally tip Bernie over into gales of laughter. The look on Serena’s face starts to soften from ire to amusement as the funny side of the situation starts to dawn on her. She’s still not ready to fully forgive Bernie, but a flicker of wickedness flitters across her eyes. As Bernie continues to laugh Serena places the glass of Pimms safely on the ground by her lounger. With speed she didn’t know she possessed she grabs the hosepipe Bernie had dropped on the ground, puts her thumb over the end of it to increase the pressure, and, with equal speed, turns it on Bernie

It’s Bernie’s turn to shriek and Serena’s turn to laugh as the cold water drenches Bernie from head to toe.

“Campbell!” Bernie splutters in an odd combination of indignation, surprise and giggles, “You’re going to pay for that.” She warns as she lunges for the hose. Serena, however, has already dropped the hose pipe before Bernie can make her move. She’d known that she’d need every second of advantage she could get if she was going to escape whatever plan she had seen forming in Bernie’s eyes. She’s off like a shot and Bernie is hot on her heels. 

Despite Serena’s best efforts, and a rather comical chase around the garden with them ending up back in the same place they started from, Bernie catches Serena. Bernie’s years of training in the Army pay dividend. Her wet arms wind their way around Serena’s waist, simultaneously pulling her to a stop and into an embrace.

“You’re all wet.” Serena complains.

“And whose fault is that?” Bernie retorts, accusingly. 

“You started it!” 

“Then I’d better finish it.” Bernie threatens as she turns Serena round in her arms to face her. There’s something in the way Serena is looking at her that makes her think the flush on Serena’s face is more than just the heat, and the way her chest is heaving to take in air is more than just catching her breath after running round the garden. Bernie walks Serena backwards until the back of her legs strike the edge of a lounger. She sits rapidly on it as Bernie gently pushes her down. From this position, with Bernie towering over her, she can see just how transparent the soaking she received has rendered Bernie’s light top. She can see how tightly the wet fabric is clinging to perfectly formed breasts, showing everything and nothing at the same time. She can see drops of water rolling down the gentle slopes of Bernie’s breasts and disappearing down folds of fabric. Serena can’t be entirely sure but she wouldn’t be surprised if she hasn’t actually brought her tongue out to lick her lips in an unconscious response to both the sight in front of her, and the thought of following the path the water was taking with her fingers or mouth.

When Bernie pushes her back so she’s reclining on the lounger, and throws one long tanned leg over her hips, all Serena can do is focus on was the way the light fabric is gripping the firm muscles of Bernie thighs and accentuating their every movement and flicker. 

Bernie is not exactly complaining about her view. There are beads of sweat glistening on Serena’s chest, and an abundance of water droplets winding their way round and past them, ricocheting of them at random. Refusing to be deterred from reaching their destination they work their way to the taught edges of Serena’s swimsuit, venturing in under them before rolling out of sight. It’s one of the most mesmerising things that Bernie has ever seen.

Bernie leans forward so she is crouching over Serena. Serena thinks Bernie is going to kiss her, but she stops inches from her lips and instead reaches under the lounger and fumbles around. Obviously having found whatever she was groping for she sits back on her haunches, holding something tightly in her right hand. She uses her left hand to bring Serena arms, one at a time, down to her sides and places her hands under her knees. When Bernie kneels over Serena again her hands are held in place; out of the way, but not tightly enough to hurt. 

Then Bernie opens her right hand, revealing the cube of ice she had fished from Serena’s glass of Pimms. Reaching forward she runs the edge of the ice cube slowly and softly over Serena’s full and inviting lips, leaving a shining trail of water in its wake. Bernie smiles as she sees Serena’s lips part slightly at her ministrations. She moves the cube of ice over Serena’s cheek, down past her earlobe and along the side of her neck, watching, as she does, the flurry of micro expressions that flitter across Serena’s face; the shock, the pleasure, the anticipation.

Slowly, ever so slowly, she moves the ice along Serena’s clavicle until she reaches the notch at the base of her neck, leaves it there, and sits back. The high temperatures of the day have warmed Serena’s skin. The heat radiating from both Serena’s body and Bernie’s gaze is no match for the ice cube. It begins to liquefy. Within moments there is a small and growing pool of water underneath it. Serena isn’t laying entirely flat, her head and chest are slightly raised, so when the notch in the base of her neck fills with water the remaining ice floats off and starts making a slow, meandering path down her chest. Bernie can’t take her eyes off the ice cube and the leisurely progress it’s making down Serena’s over heated body. She can see the trail of wetness, sparkling in the sun, that is being left behind it as it goes. It enthrals her.

Serena doesn’t need to look. She can feel every millimetre the freezing ice is travelling across her hot skin, can feel Bernie’s hotter gaze burning into her. The contrast between hot and cold is so pronounced, so incredibly erotic, that she can feel herself starting to get wet. The heat of the day is nothing compared to the heat starting to grow within her core. As she battles to stay in control of the excitement building inside her, to keep still and not remove her hands from the loose restraint of Bernie’s knees, her breathing starts to quicken. The increased movement of her chest causes the rapidly shrinking ice cube to hasten its journey. With a sudden rush of speed the now almost spherical ball of ice slips along Serena’s cleavage, under the curve of her right breast, and burrows itself under the fabric of her swim suit and is lost to sight. 

Both women are now breathing heavily. Bernie leans forward, and Serena again assumes that she is going to kiss her but once more she fumbles in the glass under the lounger and retrieves a fresh cube of ice. This time, however, she doesn’t put the ice cube on Serena, she pops it in her own mouth. Then her mouth is on Serena’s and they are both lost in a tangle of heat, tongues, lips and cold.

Serena breaks the kiss and looks into Bernie’s eyes to see her own desires mirrored there. A flash of something that Serena can’t quite identify is playing in Bernie’s eyes. She soon stops worrying about identifying it as Bernie moves her mouth, still full of ice, to Serena’s neck and starts retracing the path she’d taken with the first ice cube. This time the cold burn of the ice is followed by the soothing warmth of Bernie’s tongue. The contrast heightens both sensations and turns the warmth between Serena’s legs into a throbbing. As Bernie works her way inch by inch to the notch in the middle of Serena’s clavicle Serena is overly aware of the state of tension she is holding her body in, feels it increase, feels the muscles in her lower abdomen start to clench. Bernie refuses to be distracted from her task. She makes her way down the line of Serena’s cleavage, ignoring the swell of her breasts with her mouth, but brushing them with the soft orbs of her cheeks. Bernie’s knees are no longer holding Serena’s hands in place. It’s purely the anticipation of what Bernie will do next that keeps her hands pinned to her side.

As Bernie’s mouth rounds the underside of Serena’s breast Serena begins to feel her body tingle. When Bernie reaches up to pull the strap of Serena’s swimsuit off her shoulder, exposing her entire breast to both Bernie’s hot mouth and the cold of the ice within it. Serena feels the breath stall in her lungs. It’s obviously audible and serves to spur Bernie on to greater endeavours. She works her way round Serena’s breast, alternating tongue and lips, heat and cold, in ever decreasing circles. 

She seems to be in no rush. She isn’t in any rush. She doesn’t seem bothered by the chance (remote but still a possibility) that the garden of Serena’s leafy detached, and what they were currently doing in it, could be seen by any of their neighbours. Serena is only too aware of the possibility, she just can’t bring herself to care. In fact the frisson the risk of being caught gives her only serves to ratchet her arousal to new and higher levels.

Bernie works her way round and round, tighter and tighter, until she has reached Serena’s dusky pink areola. She is still in no rush. If anything she seems to be slowing up even more.   
Serena’s nipples are erect, taught, and screaming for attention. Bernie seems oblivious to this fact, and oblivious to the pure torture she is inflicting on Serena. The alternative blasts of warmth of Bernie’s breath over the edge of Serena’s nipples followed by the icy hit of ice cube chilled air is nothing short of torture.

When Serena can finally take no more, she lets out a whimper. It’s incoherent; there were no words in it, but it undeniably means ‘please’ and ‘stop teasing’ and ‘more’ all at once.

Bernie obliges and moves to take Serena’s nipple deep into her mouth.

Again, it seems like several things happen almost a once. Bernie lets out a moan as her lips clamp around Serena’s nipple, Serena lets out a groan that could best be described as feral as her nipple is engulfed in sensations of fire and ice at once. It’s like nothing she’s ever felt before: exquisite hints of pain and full blown pleasure perfectly balanced in bliss; erotic beyond her imagining. The sensations that Bernie is drawing out of her have made her aware of every inch of her body. 

Bernie rapidly settles into a steady rhythm washing Serena’s nipple in warmth, then cold, and enveloping it with lips, tongues and steady suction. Serena can’t just feel the wetness between her legs, she’s aware of it pooling there.

Although it feels like an eternity, it can only have been a few seconds before they are interrupted by a crash of thunder that leaves their ears ringing. Then the heavens open and rain falls from the sky as heavily as if someone was pouring a bucket of cold water over them. The shock of the sudden deluge of cold water on hot and bothered skin causes them to spring apart. Well, causes Bernie to jump back from the slow deliberate attention that she had been lavishing on Serena’s breast.

If the women had been wet after the incident with the hosepipe they were absolutely soaked now. The look of utter shock on Bernie’s face was full of such righteous indignation that Serena dissolved into tears of laughter. Poor Bernie, who was taking the worst of the drenching, took a little longer to see the funny side, but it doesn’t take long before she’s laughing every bit as loudly as Serena.

“I think,” says Serena as soon as she regained enough breath to speak “that we should take this inside and both get out of these wet clothes...”

“Best idea I’ve heard all day” Bernie replies as Serena wriggles herself out from under her, gets to her feet and says

“Bring the Pimms” before she makes her way across the garden to the door. Bernie springs off the lounger, stoops to gather the glasses of Pimms, before following rapidly after Serena. She’s not sure but she thinks Serena might have been slipping the other strap of her swimsuit over her other shoulder. She’s not sure, but she’s not going to waste any time in finding out.


End file.
